Love hurts

One of my favorite songs is the Beach Boys song, Kokomo.
It's a song about escaping from the troubles of the world for a time and kicking back.

Listening to that or a Jimmy Buffett song makes me wonder what would life be like if we could just roll with the punches, just not care so much about things, about people.

Could life be one continuous Kokomo?

What if we didn't care about the fact that some kids in the richest country in the world don't have enough to eat and have little hope that the future will be any better?
What if we didn't care that across this country that too people do not make a living wage?
What if it didn't bother us that the mentally ill and addicted are jailed, not treated?
What if it didn't bother us if workers were mistreated?
What if we didn't stay up at nights worried about our kids, our parents, our loved ones?

I suppose we wouldn't be "us."

The fact is we do care.
That's why it hurts when we lose a friend, have a child going down the wrong path, or see workers mistreated.
It's also what keeps us fighting back.
It's why we organize workers and fight for social justice.

So Kokomo is an illusion, or at best, a temporary resting place.

Because we do care and tomorrow is another day.

The call never came

 

I was at home that morning 14 years ago. 

I watched as the tower burned. 

I watched as the second plane hit.  

I watched as brave fire, police and EMS rushed in to assist. 

I watched and I waited for the call. 

As a trauma nurse in a Connecticut hospital I waited for the call to come in to work. 

In past years I would have rushed in but we had revised our response because of experience built in other disasters. 

Now we were instructed to wait at home, try to rest, and be ready to answer the call when those on duty reached exhaustion and needed relief. 

Rest was impossible. I was glued to the TV. 

I packed a bag with extra clothes and snacks and placed it by the door. 

And I waited for the call. 

My hospital was 115 miles from the city, but we are at Trauma center, and surely with this many injured we would receive some of them.

So I waited for the call. 

In my head I ran through my training. Airway, breathing, circulation, two large bore IVs. 

I felt ready for the technical issues, I hoped I was ready for the emotional. There were children in the building, and mothers and fathers. There were so many brave fire, police and EMS. Emergency nurses feel a kinship to EMS, who rush in when others run away. They see the worst or the worst. You can see it in their eyes when they arrive. Their eyes are saying, "please don't fail with MY patient."  

My thoughts also turned to my fellow nurses, especially the young ones. 

And I waited for the call. 

Surely with this many survivors.  

But the call never came. 

It's about family

My phone rang early in the day.  It was my friend Carol calling to tell me her mother had died.

It was expected. Her mom was elderly and in hospice but still.  She said she had spent part of the day yesterday with her mom and when she left to get something to eat, that's when mom passed.  It so often happens that way.

Carol and I became close friends when we both became involved in the union. She was, and continues to be, my political liaison of the Backus Nurses.  She has faced death many times in her role as a nurse. It's part of what we do but it's different when it's your own family. 

All I could do was listen.

I cleared my schedule so that I could go to the funeral tomorrow.

Latter in the day, our meeting was interrupted with the news that Bruce had died.

Bruce was president of the Norwalk Teachers. He was too young. 

I came to know him about a year ago, much less time than most others in our union, and yet he found a way in that short time to find a place in my heart. 

He was a true union brother and faught fiercely for his teachers. 

One story is of him being in a group of people and the comment being made that if, in negotiations, there was a dollar on the table, Bruce would get 99 cents of it. To which Bruce matter of factly replied, "If there was a dollar on the table, I'd ask for more because if there's a dollar on the table, there's more in their pocket."

That was Bruce.

I didn't know Bruce's biological family but I know his Labor family and my thoughts turned quickly to them, especially to those who have known him longer than I.  

As an emergency room nurse I dealt with death often, even being the person giving the bad news.  It was always difficult but I guess no matter how young, or how tragic, I always tried to remember that my patient was in a better place.  

It was harder with the families.

I know hat Bruce is in heaven, probably negotiating a better deal for Carol's mom, and I know that those of us still here will carry on, it's what we do.

But we're family, and it's always toughest on the families. 

To all my brothers and sisters in AFT and all of Labor I send my prayers and my love tonight.

On Labor Day, think of workers, unions

Today I feature a guest blog from my friend Wayne Burgess.
Wayne is a retired UAW member from Electric Boat MDA and the president of the Southeastern Connecticut Central Labor Council, AFL-CIO.
He is also responsible for my first becoming a union member, when he invited me to join UAW Local 1981, the National Writers Union, during the organizing drive to form AFT Local 5149, the Backus Federation of Nurses.

Wayne wrote this letter to the editor that was printed in the Norwich Bulletin and New London Day this week.
Thank you Wayne.

On Labor Day, let's do more than attend a barbecue and lament the end of summer. Let's commemorate the importance of hard work year-round and how our contributions to the economy make America strong.

This year, let's recognize all of the men and women who are working for a better life-whether they are teachers, miners, firefighters, farm workers, cashiers or electricians. From the early shift to the late shift, in big cities and small communities, we are the ones who keep this country running.

Today we honor the hard work of union members and pay tribute to all the benefits that make our lives better thanks to speaking up together, like the eight-hour workday, access to a living wage, decent benefits and job security.  None of this would be possible without the existence of unions.  Unions level the playing field and help create an economy where everyone, not just a few at the top, can work for a better life.  This Labor Day, let's celebrate unions and all of the wonderful things they've accomplished hand-in-hand with the working families they represent.

Wayne Burgess
Uncasville, CT

I have a question

Being out of the ER for 10 weeks now, I have just one question.

How did I ever do that for 21 years?

I was in a meeting with some people from the state, from AFT national and from the Baltimore school system recently.
One of them asked me what was more stressful, my new job or working in the ER.
"Working in the ER," I answered without hesitation.
That is not to say this new job is easy or without challenges or stress.
There is incredible stress, incredibly long hours and some nights of fitful sleep, but it's not nursing and it's not working in the ER.

I give healthcare workers credit.
Life and death decisions, stress, bullying, assaults, and more are a part of daily life.
Representing teachers now, I see more than ever that they face many of the same issues.

It's hard to explain, but nurses know.
I think teachers know too.

So, I did my time. (21 years)
Now I'm representing some of the greatest, most courageous, and most dedicated people in the world, the nurses and other healthcare workers, the teachers and other education personnel, and the public servants of AFT Connecticut.

My hat's off to you.